


Warming Up to You

by lunaria697



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Blow Jobs, Cold Weather, HP Drizzle Fest 2015, Healer Draco Malfoy, M/M, Sharing Body Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 12:24:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18365972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaria697/pseuds/lunaria697
Summary: Healer Draco hates that the Auror Corps sends their workers out in all kinds of weather, especially when the most irresponsible of those Aurors is Harry Potter.





	Warming Up to You

**Author's Note:**

> This is another older fic I wrote in 2015. It was my submission for HP Drizzle Fest, WHICH is coincidentally starting up again right now for 2019! Prompting is open right now, and claiming will begin in about 2 weeks. So if fests are your jam or you've got a weather-related plot bunny you'd love to see someone turn into a fic or art, hop on over! 
> 
> This was so enjoyable to write, and I think it might be my longest -completed- fic I've written so far. I hope you enjoy it! ♥

“For Merlin’s sake, Potter!” 

Harry Potter looked sheepish. “Sorry, Malfoy. It was a week-long beach stakeout.”

“And you didn’t once think to apply any bloody sunscreen charms?” Draco had trouble keeping his voice at a professional volume. “I just saw you with burns like these two months ago.”

Potter shrugged and then winced at the blisters on his shoulder. 

Draco sighed as he cast the too-familiar burn healing charms. 

Whichever foolish bloke was head of the Auror department kept sending Aurors on missions without proper extreme-weather training, and it was driving Draco spare. His time would be better spent healing deadly splinch wounds or reversing complex dark magic curses than healing burns on irresponsible Aurors. 

Draco handed Potter a potion vial. “Drink this. I’ll be back to check on you in an hour.”

Potter quirked a smile. “Thanks for always patching me up, Malfoy.”

Draco gave a curt nod and left to make his rounds. 

When Draco had graduated from trainee to licensed Healer, he specifically requested the ward that handled the most Auror injuries. It was his way of making amends for what had happened during the war. Little had he known that meant being assigned to the Niall Aerune Ward. Aerune had been a notoriously barmy Healer who killed himself with an out-of-control blizzard charm in his sitting room.

“Oh, Draco.” A familiar whimsical voice caught his attention. “Auror Kirke just showed up with supposed wind burns.” 

Draco turned to face Luna Lovegood, one of the admittance nurses for his ward. “Oh?”

“Personally, I think it looks like the work of a Heliopath.” She winked conspiratorially. 

Draco smiled and thanked her for the insight. He didn’t understand why Luna chose to work in Healing, but he was glad she did. She had an odd knack for righting his mood. 

+++

The next time Draco saw Potter at St. Mungo’s was just under a fortnight later. He was finishing his last rounds and looking forward to having the next day off. As he stepped out of Auror Geedlebraug's room and bid him goodnight, he heard a commotion in the floor's entrance foyer. He rubbed a hand down his face in exhaustion before walking over to find Luna and a battered-looking Potter arguing with one of his trainees. 

“These are not the type of injuries we treat here,” trainee Flatfoote said in exasperation. “Broom crashes go to Artefact Accidents on the first floor.” She looked at Potter. “How did you even get here in the first place?”

Potter looked abashed. “I Apparated in.”

“You Apparated? To the sixth floor of St. Mungo's?” 

“He might have been on a broom when the accident took place, but a tornado spell was the cause. Therefore--” Luna's tone was uncharacteristically sharp, and Draco interrupted.

“Why do we have an injured patient standing in the foyer when he should be receiving prompt medical attention? We work in a hospital, do we not?” Three pairs of eyes swung to look at Draco. Flatfoote had the decency to look embarrassed. “Both of you go finish your rounds, please. Potter, can you walk?” 

Potter nodded but barely took two steps before wincing and stumbling. A gash on his leg was bleeding freely. 

Draco was beside him in a second and cast a charm to stop the bleeding. “Here, put your arm around my shoulder. Your room isn't far.”

Potter hesitated. 

“For Merlin's sake, Potter. I won't bite. I would rather not use Mobilicorpus to get you twenty feet down the hall.” 

Potter finally wrapped his arm gingerly around Draco, his hand clasping Draco's shoulder. The warmth of his touch surprised Draco, and he made a mental note to check for a fever. Draco gripped Potter's waist snugly to help keep their balance as they walked. His fingers played absently over the torn Auror robes, checking for injuries.

Potter let out a strangled hum. 

“Shit, sorry, are you injured there?”

“Erm, no. Yes. It's okay.”

Draco gave him a sideways glance. “You said it was a broom crash? Hit your head, did you?”

“Erm. I might have.”

They arrived at the room and Draco helped Potter sit on the bed. “Strip down to your pants and then you can lie down. It's easier to heal if I can see the damage.” He turned to go and then paused. “Do you need help out of your clothing?”

“No!” Potter said and then added, “I don't need your help, thanks.” 

“Right. I'm going to check on my other patients while you do that.”

When Draco returned to Potter's room he found him dozing in the bed. Potter hadn't bothered to cover himself with the blanket, and Draco caught himself staring. Potter was fitter than most of the Aurors he'd treated. He shook his head; the long day must be catching up with him. 

Draco cleared his throat noisily, and Potter jerked awake. “Tiring day?”

“Yeah, sorry. I swear to Merlin we were dealing with Aerune incarnate today. Bloke knew some nasty weather curses I've never seen before.” 

“Hopefully nothing Dark, or we'll have to move you after all,” Draco mused. “How did you get here anyway? You can't have Apparated because there are wards preventing that.”

“I really don't know. I've only been able to Apparate through wards a handful of times. Hermione said something about it being related to the strength of my magic in desperate situations.” Potter shrugged. 

“Hmm. Interesting.” Draco added it to his mental checklist of topics to research. 

+++

A few days later, Luna grabbed Draco from the break room. She looked unusually panicked. “Ron Weasley was just admitted,” she said. “We need you.”

Draco quickly followed her. He knew that Ron and George Weasley often turned up at St. Mungo's for odd but minor injuries from experimenting on new products for their joke shop in Diagon. However, it was rarely serious and never related to Draco's work in the Aerune Ward. “What happened?” 

“George said they were trying to create a new wind storm charm for Hogwarts students to get a class dismissed. They meant for it to be a mild charm, but...” she trailed off as they entered Ron's room. “See for yourself.” 

Draco was seasoned enough not to gape at the injuries, but it was no wonder Luna was worried. Weasley's unconscious body was covered in bloody gashes and several bones looked shattered to the point of obliteration. 

Luna fidgeted. “I used a stasis charm to stop the bleeding, but I don't know how long it will hold.”

“Nicely done. I know these injuries look bad, but as long as there's no residual magic still working, he'll make a quick recovery.” Draco paused. “Where are my trainees?” 

“I'm not sure. I think Duncan is assisting on the first floor, and Flatfoote is on break right now. Shall I go get them?”

Draco shook his head. “No time. I'll need you to help me instead. Get me a blood-replenishing potion, bruisewort balm, dittany, murtlap, Skele-Gro, dreamless sleep, and a calming draught.”

Luna nodded and dashed off. 

Draco took out his wand and began casting diagnostic spells. He needed to make sure there was no active residual magic before he removed the stasis charm. 

He was interrupted by loud, running footsteps and yelling down the hallway. He stuck his head out the door to reprimand whoever was the source of the commotion and found himself face to face with none other than Harry Potter. 

“Draco,” Harry breathed. “I mean, uh, Healer Malfoy. I heard about Ron, is he alright? I just got George's Patronus and --”

Draco cut him off, doing nothing to hide his irritation. “He will be fine if you let me do my job, Mr. Potter. You shouldn’t be in this area.”

“Ah, sorry. Is he in here? Can I see him?” Potter tried to enter the room, but Draco blocked him.

“Potter, I don't have time to argue with you.” He ran an impatient hand through his hair. 

“Shit, I'm sorry, Malfoy. I'm just worried about him. Is there any way I can help?” 

Draco was about to turn him down and send him to find George Weasley in the waiting area, when he saw Luna rushing towards them, grasping several potion vials in her arms. He thought quickly. He usually had a trainee and a nurse to help him heal severely injured patients. While Potter was neither of those, he was no stranger to severe injuries, and Draco was missing one helper. 

“Merlin's saggy balls,” Draco muttered. “All right, you can help. But--” Draco looked at him severely. “You cannot tell anyone about this. You have no Healer training and I could lose my licence for this.” 

Harry reached out and squeezed his arm. “You have my word.” 

“Hello, Harry,” Luna greeted him. “Is Hermione still in France?”

Potter nodded. “I promised I would firecall her as soon as I know anything.” 

“Enough chit-chat,” Draco grumbled. “Potter, I've got to warn you, his injuries look pretty bad, but it's nothing I haven't healed before.”

“It's all right, Malfoy. I've seen bad injuries before.”

“Yes, but it's always harder to see these types of injuries on a loved one. I just want to prepare you.” Draco paused, and when Potter's steely expression didn't waver, he continued, “I assume Episkey was included in your Auror training?”

Potter nodded.

Draco moved away from the door so they could enter the room. He watched Potter carefully, but the man appeared admiringly undaunted. “Then please start healing the minor wounds. Luna, help me stop the major bleeding and set the broken bones. I am removing the stasis charm now.”

An hour later, Weasley was stable. 

“I'm going to wake him up now,” Draco said, and cast Rennervate. 

Weasley woke up with a pained yell and several choice expletives. 

Harry was at his side immediately. “Ron, relax, it's okay. You're at St. Mungo's. Everything is fine.”

“Merlin's tits, Harry. Everything hurts.” Ron groaned.

“Weasley, listen to me,” Draco said.

“Malfoy? What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“I'm your Healer, Weasley. You suffered spell damage at Wheezes, and I need to know what spell did this.” 

“Oh.” Weasley seemed to focus. “It was supposed to be a mild, gusty version of Deprimo.” 

“Deprimo?” Draco frowned. “Well that explains all the injuries. That's a naturally damaging spell, Weasley. You should have just stuck with Ventus.”

“I'm not stupid, Malfoy. We obviously tried that first. Now can you please heal me? It hurts.” 

“Yes, you lost a lot of blood and have several shattered bones that we were unable to mend. Swallow these.” He handed Weasley the vials of Skele-Gro and blood-replenishing potion. “I'll leave Dreamless Sleep here for you if you need it. You'll be discharged in the morning.”

Weasley made a face at the Skele-Gro but drank both potions. 

“I'll let Hermione know you're okay,” Harry said. 

“I appreciate it, mate,” Ron said. He eyed the bottle of Dreamless Sleep. “I think I'll take this now too.” 

“Luna, will you clean up? The bedding also need to be changed. And someone needs to let George Weasley know that his brother is okay.” Draco paused. “Thanks for your help, Luna. You did a fantastic job. Let me know if you ever want a recommendation for a Healer's apprenticeship.” 

Luna smiled. “Thank you, Draco, but I'm quite happy with my current position.” She began humming as she collected the empty potion vials. 

Draco turned to Potter. “You can firecall Granger from my office. Follow me.”

As they walked, Draco thanked Potter for his help. “You would make a fine Healer once you get bored of Auror work.” 

Potter laughed heartily. It was a nice sound after such a tense and sombre couple of hours. “Thanks, Draco, but I don't see that happening anytime soon.” They walked in silence for a few seconds before Potter spoke again. “We do make a great team though.” He smiled. “And I'm glad to see that none of the old prejudices affect your work.”

Draco scoffed. “Potter, we're not sixteen anymore. I'm a different person now, if you haven't noticed.” _Thanks to you_ , Draco added silently, thinking of how he had vowed to turn his life around after Potter saved him from a lifetime in Azkaban. 

“I know.” Potter squeezed his shoulder briefly. 

“This is my office,” Draco said as he unlocked the door with a wordless spell and gestured Potter inside. “Floo powder is on the mantle. I'll leave you to it.” 

Thirty minutes later, Draco once again came unexpectedly face-to-face with Potter as he exited a sleeping patient's room. “You're still here,” he said. “Is everything all right?” 

“Of course. I just wanted to stay a bit longer and make sure that Ron is going to be okay. I sent George home already. He's still got a shop to run tomorrow.”

Draco frowned and chose to ignore the insult to his healing abilities. “And if I'm not mistaken, you still have to go be an Auror tomorrow, which is a much more demanding and dangerous job than running a joke shop.” 

Potter held up his hands as if in surrender. “I don't plan on staying the whole night, of course. And Luna's told me she'll be on shift until Ron is discharged.” 

“Good.” Draco started to walk away, but Potter stopped him. 

“Ah, but I was wondering if you'd eaten yet?”

“What?” 

“It's past suppertime, and I'm starving. I could treat you to Thai food if you're interested. As thanks for saving Ron, of course.” 

“Potter, my shift isn't over until tomorrow. I can't just leave the hospital when I feel like it.”

“No, of course not. I didn't mean to imply that. I can get takeaway and we can eat in your office.” He paused. “If you're hungry.” 

Draco considered Potter’s offer. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

Potter grinned stupidly. “Great.”

“You can use my Floo if you’d like. I'll key the wards to allow you back in.” 

An hour later, Draco was inhaling Pad See Ew. He hadn't realised how hungry he was until he caught the nutty aroma wafting down the hallway. “Thanks, Potter. This is great,” he said between mouthfuls. 

Potter nodded. “I didn't realise Healing is almost as appetising as field work.” 

They ate in silence for a few minutes.

“So,” Potter said eventually. “I think I see you more often than I see Dean or Seamus, but I know more about their lives than I do about yours.”

Draco eyed Potter wearily. “You're a patient, Potter. There's a line of professionalism we shouldn't cross.” 

“Am I really just your patient though?” He shrugged. “I thought we had more history than that.”

Draco sat back and considered Potter. “I won't deny we have history.”

“And aren't all your friends potential patients too? So why am I different? This is a hospital, not a family practice.” Potter continued his argument. 

“The difference, Potter, is that none of my friends have ever been admitted to my ward before. And you are unarguably my most frequent guest,” he said accusingly. 

Potter blushed. “It's not like I do it on purpose,” he muttered, looking away. 

“No, but perhaps you're too reckless in the field. And basically a permanent patient.” 

Potter hmmm'd. “So you don't want to be friends?” 

Draco opened his mouth to retort, and then closed it. He felt like he'd won the argument and it didn't feel as good as he expected. “I didn't say that,” he muttered. “But it's complicated.” 

Potter let out a sharp laugh. “Is anything between us ever simple?” 

“I suppose not.” Draco quirked a smile. 

“I'll take complicated if you will.” Potter held out his hand. 

Draco's heart skipped a beat as he shook Potter's hand, the warmth travelling up his arm and ending up somewhere in his chest. He felt it was going to be both the best and worst decision he'd made in a while. 

+++

Several days later, Draco was in his sitting room, curled up with an advanced potions text and enjoying a rare weekend off when he got a firecall from Blaise. 

“You look bored,” Blaise commented dryly. 

“What do you want, Blaise?” 

“Pansy and I are getting the whole Hogwarts gang together for a night at the Leaky. And you are coming too,” he added when he saw Draco open his mouth. “Pansy will Avada both of us if you don't show. It's been ages since we've seen you for more than a quick breakfast at that nasty Muggle cafe by St. Mungo's.” 

Draco reluctantly closed his book. “Fine. All right. I'll go.”

Blaise grinned. “Good. Be there at eight. And don't be late or Pansy will come looking for you.” 

“I'll be there.” 

Six hours later, Draco Apparated to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. It wasn’t quite eight o’clock yet, and Draco wanted to see how Weasley’s injuries had healed. 

A bell rang as he entered the shop, but he hardly noticed it over the cacophony of vociferous children and yawping products. 

“Malfoy? What are you doing here?”

George Weasley stood next to the door, restocking the window display. Draco nodded in greeting and answered, “I wanted see how your brother recovered from that poorly cast Deprimo.” 

George’s ear coloured. “About that,” he said. “Harry told me what a fantastic job you did healing Ron, and I wanted to thank you. Using Deprimo was not our brightest moment,” he muttered. 

Draco waved it off. “I was just doing my job.” 

“Draco!” A by-now warmly familiar voice caught his attention and he turned to see Potter weaving through children towards him. “Are you meeting everyone at the Leaky tonight?” When Draco nodded, Potter continued. “Brilliant! I’ll walk over with you.”

“I stopped in to check on Weasley. How is he?”

Potter smiled. “Terrified to ever use Deprimo again, but otherwise fine.”

“Perfect.” Draco snickered. 

“Should we walk to the Leaky now?”

“Ron and I will join you after we close up,” George said. 

As they ambled down Diagon Alley, Potter asked, “So, are you dating anyone?”

Draco nearly choked on his saliva. “I don’t see what business that is of yours,” he retorted before remembering their last conversation. “But, if you really want to know, I am--”

His words were cut short when someone came up behind them and swung a muscled arm around Potter’s shoulders. “Harry!” the man exclaimed. “I didn’t think I’d see you here tonight. Are you going to the Leaky too?”

To Draco’s surprise, Potter returned the man’s greeting with a quick hug. “It’s great to see you,” he said. “I thought you were still in Argentina.” 

“I just got back last week. They’re giving us a rare holiday and I’m trying to make the most of it,” the man said. 

“Oh, Jeremy, you remember Draco Malfoy,” Potter said quickly. 

“I sure do,” Jeremy said, offering his hand. 

“Jeremy played on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team as Chaser,” Potter explained. 

Draco shook his hand. “Of course I remember,” he lied smoothly. “And by the looks of it, you still play.” Jeremy’s arms gleamed golden in the waning sunlight. Draco suspected a garish glamour was at work. 

Jeremy grinned. “Yep. I’ve been trying to get Harry to catch a Portkey to one of our games this season, but apparently his Auror duties are too demanding,” Jeremy teased, squeezing Potter with the arm still casually wrapped around his shoulders. 

Draco scowled. He had no interest in watching this dunce try to flirt with Potter. “It was nice to see you again, Jeremy,” he said icily. “But I promised Pansy I wouldn’t be late.” He nodded curtly to Potter and then turned to leave. 

“Draco, wait,” Potter called after him, but Draco kept walking. 

“Let him go,” he heard Jeremy say. “No one wants to talk to that git anyways.”

Draco tuned them out and walked faster. Pansy was going to get an earful for inviting that mouth-breather.

As it happened, Pansy was so happy to finally see Draco that he could barely get a word in edgewise. 

“And did you hear about Marietta Edgecomb?” Pansy bubbled. “I tried to invite her tonight but she wouldn’t return my owls.” She lowered her voice, though Draco knew she purposely kept it loud enough that the curious Ravenclaws standing nearby could hear. “Apparently she was apprenticing for some Potions master, and one of the potions exploded and left disfiguring boils all over her. Isn’t that ironic?” 

Draco feigned interest, and Pansy launched into another piece of gossip. 

Several hours later found Draco lounging against the bar, swapping stories with Blaise and Theo. 

“I hear you’re chummy with Potter now,” Theo said to Draco.

Draco raised a brow. “And who told you that?” 

“Oh, come on, Draco,” Blaise drawled. “Everyone in the Department knows how often he ends up in your ward.”

“My ward? I’m sure he frequents the other wards just as much.”

Theo shook his head. “Actually, he doesn’t.”

“That makes no sense,” Draco muttered. He tugged at the collar of his shirt. “It’s hot in here. I’m going out for some fresh air.” He could feel Blaise’s eyes on him as he walked to the patio. 

He didn’t expect to find Potter alone outside. “What’re you doing out here?” he asked.

Potter jumped at his voice. “I needed some air,” he said. 

They stood in silence for a few moments. Draco felt oddly relaxed around Potter, and he realised he was drunk. 

“I’m sorry about Jeremy earlier,” Potter broke the silence. 

Draco shrugged. “It’s none of my business who you date.” 

“Who I _what_?” Potter’s eyes widened. 

“I’m not blind, Potter. You’ve had eyes for him all night. And his flirting is about as subtle as the Whomping Willow.” 

“Draco, you’ve got it all wrong.”

Draco waved him off. “I don’t care what you do, Potter. Just keep it behind closed doors, please.” 

Potter scowled. “Fine,” he said, and stomped off. 

A minute later he came stomping back. “Not that I care one sickle what you think, but I am not dating that overbearing oaf,” he blustered. “Okay, so maybe we hooked up one time right after Hogwarts, but I swear that was it. And he hasn’t been able to let it go since.”

Draco stared and then laughed. “Okay.” 

“I just wanted you to know the truth,” Potter huffed. “Considering we’re friends and all.” 

Draco smiled. He found he enjoyed this tumultuous side of Potter. 

But Potter didn’t miss a beat. “So now that we’ve got my love life aired in the open, you never answered my question earlier. Are you dating anyone?”

Draco scoffed. “I certainly hope that’s not the full extent of your love life.”

“I see you’re avoiding my question.”

“I don’t have the time to date anyone. Really, I probably see you at the hospital more often than I see Pansy and Blaise combined.” After a minute of silence, Draco couldn’t help asking, “That isn’t actually the extent of your love life, is it?” 

“Of course not,” Potter exclaimed. “It is difficult though. The papers still think my personal life makes a great headline.” He grimaced. “All the guys I’ve dated either hate it or love it too much.”

“Hmm,” Draco agreed. “I don’t think I would care though.”

Potter had a strange expression on his face that Draco couldn’t place. “Really? You wouldn’t care at all?”

“I am a Malfoy after all.” Draco smirked. 

Potter laughed. “Merlin forbid anyone forget it.”

+++

Luna popped into Draco’s office just after he had sat down to review some patient files on his lunch break. 

“I have someone to see you,” she said solemnly. 

Draco frowned. If it was Auror Perskey about the lightning incident then Draco had some choice words for that man. 

Instead, Potter peered around the door and gave him a bright smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” He held up a suspicious package. “I brought food,” he offered. “Enough for Luna, too…” His voice trailed off when he realised she had already left. 

Draco gestured for him to come in and sit down, and then narrowed his eyes. “How did you know I take lunch at this time? Have you been stalking me?”

Potter blushed but shook his head vehemently. “Luna gave me your schedule,” he admitted. 

Draco tittered. “Fair enough.”

“How’s work today?” Potter asked as he dug into the food. 

“Slow.” Draco told him about Auror Pewdy who was Harry’s only competition for most-seen patient. “He came in today when a potions smuggler burned his hand with Ignis.” Draco shook his head. “The burn was so minor he could have healed it himself. How that old man is still an Auror is a mystery to me.” Finally he looked up and noticed Potter’s barely concealed laughter. “What is so funny?” he demanded. 

Potter burst out laughing. “Auror Pewdy retired years ago,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. “That burn was probably from a tea kettle mishap.”

Draco’s jaw dropped. “What!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been treating him for the better part of a year. His stories are so detailed, I didn’t even second-guess him.”

Potter nodded. “I’m sure the stories are true. He was a great Auror in his heyday. He still comes around the Department sometimes to tell us what we’re doing wrong, but I think he really misses all the action.” 

As they chatted about various topics, Draco learned that they shared an affinity for learning all manner of things, and not just subjects pertinent to their work. 

“Lately I’ve been engrossed in this book Hermione recommended about latent magic. It’s fascinating.”

Draco nodded. “Like magic that remains dormant until triggered by certain events.” A thought struck him. “Like when you could suddenly Apparate inside St. Mungo’s when you needed to.”

“Yes, exactly. But not only that. There are advanced spells to recognise magical latency in a person and theoretical ways you might be able to tap into it.” He took a bite of food and spoke around it. “I thought you might have learned about some of it in your Healer training since it’s got to do with magical diagnostics.”

Draco shook his head. “That sounds like an interesting specialisation though.” 

“You can borrow the book when I’m done with it if you’d like.” 

“Yes, I’d appreciate that.” Draco was sure there was a copy of that book somewhere in the Manor’s extensive library, but he didn’t mention it. He wondered if Potter was the type to write his thoughts in the margins. 

+++

“I should change the name on your charts to Auror Pewdy,” Draco said under his breath as he treated Potter’s minor burn wounds the next week. 

“Cross my heart this was not a teapot accident,” Potter said seriously. “That’s a Muggle expression,” he added at Draco’s bewildered look. 

“I’ve a mind to send you to the Janus Thickey ward,” Draco replied mildly. “Care to explain why you thought this minor burn demanded my immediate medical attention?”

Potter blushed and looked away. “I didn’t say I needed your attention specifically.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Semantics, Potter.”

“I couldn’t be sure if the spell I was hit with was Dark magic or not. It was a nonverbal spell.”

“Hmmm,” was Draco’s reply. He thought the Auror Department taught trainees how to recognise Dark Magic, but he refrained from mentioning it. 

“I finished that book on magical latency,” Potter said suddenly. “Would you like to come round my place and pick it up later this week?”

Draco looked up, surprised. “Sure,” he said, wondering if Potter was too busy to drop it off at the hospital instead. “I can drop by for a few minutes Thursday evening if that works for you.” 

Potter fidgeted. “Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to come round on Friday and stay for tea or wine.” Draco raised a brow, but Potter blustered on. “I know it’s your day off and all, so I understand if you already have plans or would rather spend it alone--”

Draco raised his hand to curtail the rambling. “I will be over at five o’clock on Friday. I hope you have good wine.”

Potter smiled stupidly, and Draco felt a little lighter. 

+++

It was Friday evening before Draco knew it. 

As he dressed, he told himself it didn’t matter what he wore to Potter’s house, but he still chose his favourite green cashmere sweater and the new black trousers he had owl-ordered from Twilfitt and Tattings the week before. 

Five minutes and one breath-freshening charm later, Draco stood in front of 12 Grimmauld Place. It was a rather nondescript building except for the garish hippogriff knocker that Draco gingerly rapped. 

Potter looked harried, still dressed in his Auror uniform, when he opened the door. He still managed a happy smile when he saw Draco, and Draco couldn’t help but smile back. 

“I was called on a last minute chase right as I was about to leave,” he explained as he let Draco inside. “I literally just Floo’d in when you got here.” He led Draco up a staircase at the end of the hallway. “The sitting room is here. Do you mind waiting while I clean up?”

Draco waved him off. “Of course I don’t mind.” 

Potter disappeared up another flight of stairs while Draco explored the sitting room. He knew his mother had visited her cousins at Grimmauld Place when she was young, but the space must have looked vastly different. His mother had told stories of a drab, stuffy house with preserved elf heads and garish furniture. Draco saw none of that here. Potter had transformed the house into a cheerful, homey affair, and Draco thought it reflected his personality exceptionally well. 

He wandered back downstairs in search of a wine closet but found the dining room instead. The furniture looked new, and Draco suspected it rarely got any use. He decided to explore the upstairs as well but only found sparsely decorated bedrooms. He had just set foot on the third landing when he nearly bumped into Potter exiting the bathroom, clad in nothing but a towel. 

“Draco!” Potter exclaimed at the same moment that Draco awkwardly stepped back and said “Sorry!”

Draco wanted to look away, but he couldn’t help his eyes raking over Potter’s fit physique. He had seen it many times in the hospital, but this time was different in a way that Draco couldn’t pin down. Perhaps it was the water dripping from Potter’s hair and landing on tan skin before sliding down— Draco ripped his eyes away only to lock gazes with Potter who wore a knowing look and a light blush across his cheeks. 

Draco swallowed. “I just wondered where you kept your wine.” He gave thanks to Merlin when his voice came out cool and steady. 

Potter gave him an amused smile and said, “There’s a wine rack in the kitchen which is below the entry hallway.” Draco turned and was already halfway down the stairs when Potter called after him. “There’s a narrow staircase at the end of the hallway to take you down.”

Draco found the kitchen and the wine rack, and only then noticed his elevated heart rate. “I must be out of shape,” he muttered to himself while perusing the selection of wine Potter had. He was still perusing a couple minutes later when Potter joined him in the kitchen, hair still wet. 

“I have a few whites, but I prefer red wines,” Potter commented. 

“Red is good,” Draco said. “I take it you don’t age your wines. These are all fairly recent vintages.”

Potter shrugged. “I have a few I’ve put away in the cupboard—magically temperature controlled, of course,” he added quickly at Draco’s look of scandal at the word ‘cupboard’. “Here,” he said pulling out a Cabernet Franc from the rack. “I have another bottle set aside to age. Let’s drink this one now and try to compare it to the aged one later.”

“Wines take years to age, Potter,” Draco said sceptically. 

Potter shrugged and looked away. “Then you’d better still be my friend in a few years.” 

Potter’s words sounded weighty, and Draco didn’t know what to say. A few seconds later, he realised Potter was waiting for him to reply. “Okay,” he finally managed. “Let’s open this wine.” 

Potter’s smile made Draco feel like he’d just ran down three flights of stairs again. 

Two hours later, they ordered Chinese takeaway and opened a bottle of Riesling to pair with it. 

“I hate to admit this,” Potter said. “But I usually just drink a bold red wine with Chinese food. This Riesling goes so much better.”

Draco shook his head. “You would do that, Potter. With most Chinese food you want a wine that has good acidity and a little bit of sweetness. White wines tend to be more acidic and crisp than reds. A dry Riesling is a great pair for spicy Chinese food. Gewurztraminer is also good, but you don’t have any.” 

“I am definitely not going to make a fool of myself trying to pronounce that at the wine shop.”

Draco laughed. “I’ll bring some next time I come over.” He put his nose to the glass and inhaled before taking a sip. “The nose on this wine is exceptional. It’s got a nice apricot and pear aroma.” 

“You know a lot about wines,” Potter said, pointing his chopsticks at Draco.

Draco smiled and pushed his hand away. “It’s a good conversation topic at social events.”

“And by social events you mean fancy pure-blood, elbow-rubbing parties.”

Draco shrugged. “I suppose, though I don’t really attend those anymore unless my mother insists.” He was suddenly distracted by an odd box in the corner of the room. “What’s that thing?”

Potter’s eyes widened. “You’ve never seen a telly before?”

“What’s a telly?”

“Allow me to broaden your world,” Potter said gleefully. 

Thirty minutes and one fascinating soap opera later, Potter emptied the last of the Riesling into their glasses. “Shall we open another bottle?” 

Draco, feeling warm and cosy inside, nodded lazily. “My shift tomorrow doesn’t start until the afternoon so I can be up late tonight.”

“What time is it, anyway?” Potter wondered and cast a tempus charm. It read 21:38. “Draco, it’s not even ten PM yet. We have plenty of time left,” he said with a smile. 

Draco smiled back. “Good. Do you have any Pinot Noir?” 

Harry fetched a bottle from the kitchen. “Want to open this in my bedroom?”

Draco’s eyes widened. “I don’t really think—“

“Shit, not like that, Draco! I want to show you my ceiling is all.”

If that’s some weird pickup line…” Draco warned.

Potter’s face reddened. “I swear it’s not. Not that I wouldn’t—I mean, not that I don’t find you attractive. Shit, that’s not what I’m trying to—What I mean is… fuck, Draco please just come upstairs with me.”

Draco burst out laughing. “It still sounds like a pickup line, but okay.”

“Wait, okay?” Potter gaped.

“Okay that I will look at your ceiling! Get your mind out of the gutter,” Draco said.

Potter led them up two flights of stairs, past the offending bathroom from earlier, and into his bedroom. It looked conspicuously clean for Potter, and then Draco realised he could only see in the dark room because of the light emanating from the ceiling. He looked up and smiled at the sight. 

Potter had charmed the ceiling to mirror the sky, much like in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. “How nostalgic,” he said softly. 

Harry bumped shoulders gently, their arms brushing. “After we graduated from our eighth year I moved in here. The Weasleys offered me Charlie’s old room at the Burrow, but I didn’t want to impose.” Potter moved away to open the wine, and Draco found he missed the contact. “I charmed the ceiling after a few weeks of feeling homesick. Hogwarts had felt like a real home since I was eleven, but I didn’t expect to miss it so much.” He handed Draco his glass of Pinot Noir. 

“I think we had rather opposite experiences at Hogwarts,” Draco said. “It was never a home for me. More of a… kingdom,” he said, and the word tasted dirty. “I wanted to be above everything and everyone. You made that a bit difficult for me,” he teased. 

Harry smiled and tugged on his arm. “Let’s lay on the bed. My neck is starting to hurt.”

Draco was about to comment that his neck felt fine before he realised he had been watching Potter speak instead of admiring the ceiling. He followed Potter onto the bed, careful to keep space between them. 

“Here’s a pillow to lean against so you can sip your wine.”

Draco pointed at the sky. “There’s Andromeda. My aunt was named after that constellation.”

Harry shifted closer so he could follow where Draco pointed. “Teddy’s grandmother. Do you ever see Teddy?”

“I’ve seen him a couple of times when he and Andromeda have visited the Manor. I was surprised when she reconciled with my mother.”

“I’m happy Teddy will grow up with a bigger family than just his grandmother.” 

Draco looked over at him, surprised. “You’re his family too. Aren’t you his godfather? And the Weasleys are practically family.” 

Harry smiled at him. “I’m happy to hear you say that.” He looked back at the sky. “Where’s your constellation?”

“To the right of Andromeda.” He pointed and outlined the shape of it with his finger. “The head has four points, see. And the body curls out from it like a backwards letter S.” 

“Oh, I see it! Right next to Ursa Minor, right?”

“Yes. The name Draco comes from the Latin word draconis, which means huge serpent.”

Potter burst out laughing. “Is that so?” he asked, turning his body towards Draco and wagging his eyebrows suggestively. 

Draco laughed, but the room suddenly felt very small. Not knowing what to say, Draco gulped his wine and pointed again. “There is Scorpius near the horizon.”

Potter smiled and turned back to look at the sky, but his shoulder was now inches from Draco’s. “Is anyone in your family named Scorpius?”

“Not yet. I’ve always liked the name though.”

“It has a nice ring to it,” Potter agreed. He took a sip of his wine and his arm brushed against Draco’s, searing heat where they touched. 

Draco almost scooted nearer to close the gap, but he thought that would be admitting something he didn’t want to think about. 

“What’s that big cluster near Andromeda?” Potter interrupted his thoughts.

“Below Andromeda? That’s Pegasus. See the diamond shape that is its body? And then its tail and head extend from opposite corners…”

Draco woke up slowly to a pounding headache and the sunrise on his face. He made a disgruntled noise and turned to bury his face in his pillow when he felt another body next to his. The events of the night before came rushing back, and Draco’s skin heated. 

He was in bed with Harry Potter. 

He was sure that it was Harry’s well-endowed arm poking him in the side, even as his own traitorous body responded. He quickly gathered his wits and slid off the bed as quietly as possible. He grabbed his shoes and quickly left the room, his heart pounding before he made it to the first landing. 

A small part of him wondered what would happen if he stayed and let Harry – Potter – wake up next to him. He wondered if Potter was the type to laze in bed or if he was ravenous (for breakfast!) first thing. 

He shook his head and stamped those thoughts out as he quietly raced down the stairs. A world did not exist where Draco Malfoy, ex death eater, and Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world, could ever be anything more than casual friends. 

With that thought, he shoved his feet into his shoes and Disapparated from Potter’s doorstep. 

Six hours and a hangover potion later, Draco was making his rounds at the hospital, feeling much more like his usual self. 

“Hello, Draco.” Luna greeted him happily. “You look very cheerful today. Did your date with Harry last night go well?”

“It was definitely not a date,” Draco said adamantly, but he felt his cheeks heat. 

“Oh? So you just picked up the book then?”

“The book.” He had forgotten all about it.

Luna looked like a cat who had caught a hummingbird. “I’m glad your date went well.”

“It wasn’t a date!” But Luna had already started down the hallway, humming cheerfully to herself. 

Draco turned to continue his rounds and almost walked right through a silvery fawn Patronus that had come up behind him. St. Mungo’s used them for interdepartmental communication in cases of emergencies. Draco unconsciously tensed as he recognised the Patronus as belonging to Head Mediwizard Gearson. 

“Healer Malfoy, your immediate presence is required on the field. Several Aurors are trapped in a magical blizzard. Wizards can enter the blizzard but cannot leave. Come equipped to treat hypothermia, cold burns, and other common field injuries. We don’t know how long it will take the Curse-Breakers to undo the blizzard so prepare accordingly.” The fawn gave Draco the Apparition coordinates and then faded away. 

Draco reacted immediately. He sent three Patronuses out – one to Healer Solvangus who was the only other Healer to work in their small ward, and one to each of his two trainees, Flatfoote and Duncan. Then he chased after Luna for help collecting everything he needed. 

The Apparition coordinates landed him at the makeshift Auror base some fifty yards away from the blizzard. It looked like a just-shaken snow globe from where Draco stood. 

Mediwizard Gearson greeted him immediately. “Glad you were able to make it here quickly,” she said. “They finally cornered that Azkaban escapee Rabidus Ningor but he obviously went barmy after being in Azkaban for so many years. We don’t even know if he’s stuck in there too or if he managed to Disapparate out. The barrier is about a quarter-mile in diameter.”

“How many are in there?” 

“Five Aurors and two Mediwizards. Warming charms and cloaks aren’t cutting it, and all the Aurors had already sustained substantial injuries before the blizzard. We need you in there now.”

“I’m ready,” Draco said, already cycling through the list of possible healing spells he might need. 

Gearson signalled two Aurors over. “These guys will walk you to the edge. Then you’re on your own. Be careful, and remember your field training.”

As they walked, Draco was so focused on forming a plan that he tuned out the Aurors’ conversation until one name grabbed his attention. “What did you just say?” he demanded of the startled Auror. 

“I said the Curse-Breakers aren’t having much luck so I hope Potter can defeat Ningor in there.”

Draco turned white. “Harry Potter is in there?”

The Auror exchanged a bemused look with his partner. “Yeah, he is.” 

They reached the edge of the blizzard, and the Aurors wished him luck. Barely twelve inches away, sharp snow and ice cascaded in an angry fury, but all Draco could think about was getting to Potter. He donned a hospital-grade warming cloak and gloves and cast Impervius on his face. 

As soon as he stepped through the barrier, he immediately sunk into two feet of snow and was blinded by icy shards rapidly ramming against the Impervius charm. The wind howled so loud that Draco thought he might need Sonorous to communicate. 

He took a deep breath and willed himself to focus. Find Potter. He would have lead the attack, so Draco tried to look around for anywhere a battle had taken place, but it was hard to see, and Draco realised the snow would have already covered any evidence. Logically, the fight would have happened in the middle if the blizzard had been cast overhead. Or it could have been cast outwards from the edge.

Draco shook his head and willed himself to think harder. He also had to keep moving. He could feel the snow already penetrating the warming cloak, and Draco was starting to feel cold. He turned to the right and decided to move along the edge of the barrier until he found somebody. 

Thankfully he did not have to walk for long. He saw a figure waving to him from ahead. As he approached he realised it was one of the Mediwizards. 

“Healer Malfoy!” the Mediwizard called to him. “Did Gearson send you in?”

“Yes,” Draco yelled back to be heard above the roaring wind. 

“I’m Mediwizard Cowline. Follow me!” She led Draco into a lean-to shelter they had likely transfigured from rocks beneath the snow. Once he entered it, the wind and snow died away and Draco saw three weary Aurors huddled around a small fire. None of them was Potter.

“Thank Merlin you’re here,” Cowline said. “The Aurors are barely hanging on and need hospital attention. We’ve still got two missing Aurors, and Mediwizard Harpreen is out looking for them. I can’t leave the shelter or the magic will run out. The blizzard is draining magic from cast spells very quickly.”

Draco frowned. “That’s odd for a weather spell.”

“You’d be the expert on that, Healer.”

Draco shrugged his pack of supplies from his back. “I brought healing potions and more warming supplies. I’ll leave half of it with you and take the rest out with me to find the others.”

“Excellent.” Cowline pointed. “Harpreen went that way about twenty minutes ago and hasn’t returned yet. I don’t know if she got lost, or she couldn’t keep going because she found an Auror or…”

Draco nodded grimly. “I’ll find her. Any idea if Ningor is trapped in here too?”

Cowline shook her head. “We packed snow onto the shelter for camouflage in case he’s still here, but there have been no signs.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew three large pebbles. “Take these with you in case you need to transfigure an emergency shelter.” 

Draco renewed his Impervius charm and dried his cloak before forging back into the blizzard, hoping to follow the same path as Mediwizard Harpreen. 

Draco trudged through the snow for what felt like an hour but was probably closer to ten minutes before he saw an unusually shaped lump in the snow. “Hello?” he called out as he got closer to it. “Mediwizard Harpreen?” He re-cast Impervius to clear his vision. 

Suddenly the shape reared up and Draco swung his wand towards it, a spell on his lips, before he recognised the Mediwizard uniform. The girl held a warming cloak that she had been using to shield herself from the onslaught of snow. He hurried towards her, identifying himself. “I’m Healer Malfoy. Are you alright?”

Her skin looked blue and she was shivering violently. “Please help me,” she cried. “It’s Auror Potter. He won’t wake up.”

Draco froze at her words and then looked down to see Harry lying in the snow next to her, covered in icy warming blankets. He reacted immediately and purely on instinct developed from years as a Healer. 

He reached into his pack and tossed Harpreen a fresh warming cloak. Then he hastily erected a shelter around Potter by transfiguring the stones from Cowline. Kneeling down, he cast an Impervius around the entire shelter and ran a quick diagnostic spell on Potter. His vitals were weak, but stable. He was alive, and Draco allowed himself a short breath of relief. 

He turned to Harpreen and was glad to see she looked much better already. “I’ll heal Potter. Are you ready to find our last missing Auror?” he asked. “I don’t think anyone can survive much longer without a proper warming cloak.” When she nodded, Draco gave her half of his remaining supplies. “Good luck.”

After she left, Draco turned back to Potter. He tried Rennervate, but as he suspected, it didn’t work. “He’s too cold,” he muttered to himself. He threw off the frozen blankets and replaced them with two fresh warming cloaks. Then he began casting the spells that heal hypothermia. The spell work was slow-going and Draco realised the magical blizzard was siphoning power from his casting. “This isn’t working!” he shouted in frustration. 

If magic was out, all Draco was left with was archaic Muggle healing techniques. 

He quickly stripped both himself and Potter down to their pants. Doing his best to focus solely on warming Potter, he laid down next to him and wrapped his body around Potter’s from behind. He grabbed three warming cloaks and drew them over like blankets, tucking the edges underneath their bodies. 

Potter’s body was like ice against his, but heat seared through Draco. He hadn’t lain so intimately with anybody in longer than he cared to remember. The fact that it was Potter… He thanked Merlin for the cold that kept his blood flowing evenly to his vital organs and away from certain extremities. 

To distract himself, Draco ran more complex diagnostic spells, checking for injuries, blood loss, and residual spell damage. When he found an injury, he focused on healing it. When he had finally healed everything he could, Potter’s vitals were stronger and Draco was confident Rennervate would work this time.

When Draco tried Rennervate again, Harry responded. He moaned quietly and his eyelids fluttered. He wasn’t awake yet, but Draco knew they were out of the woods. “Thank Merlin,” he muttered. 

What he didn’t expect was for Harry to turn around in their embrace and nuzzle his face into Draco’s bare chest. Harry let out a small, contented sigh that went straight to Draco’s groin. 

“Harry, wake up.” Draco shook him urgently. 

“Hmmmm?” Harry murmured. “That sounds like Draco.” Suddenly Harry was wide awake and staring into Draco’s eyes with a startling intensity. “You are Draco,” he concluded. “What are we…we’re not wearing any…” He reached out and rested a tentative hand on Draco’s hip. “Is this a dream?” he asked. 

Sparks shot up his body from Harry’s touch, and Draco could feel Harry growing against his thigh. Draco was too overwhelmed to speak and strongly suspected he had adopted the classic Weasley-gape. Finally he managed to cough out the word “blizzard”. 

Harry’s eyes widened and Draco knew the moment he finally remembered where they were. He snatched his hand from Draco’s hip as if burned, face turning a deeper blush than Draco had ever seen. “I was duelling Rabidus Ningor when he threw up this blizzard, and I lost him. I must have passed out from hypothermia. You were just doing your duties as a Healer and keeping me warm.” There was something bitter to his voice that Draco didn’t like. 

“Yes, but—” Draco was cut off when Harry threw off the cloaks and started pulling his Auror uniform back on. 

“Ningor is still in here. I can sense the blizzard pulling his magic from him,” Potter said, his tone suddenly focused and Auror-like. “If I can find him then I can cancel the spell.”

“ _We_ can cancel the spell,” Draco corrected as he hastily pulled his own clothes back on. “I’m coming with you.” He aimed a drying spell at Harry’s Auror uniform. “You’re still not in any shape to be in this blizzard alone.” 

“No,” Harry said immediately. “You don’t have any Auror training.”

“I have Mediwizard training. You know I’m capable of assisting on a field mission.” 

Harry shook his head. 

Draco tried another tactic. “Harry, I’m asking as your friend. Let me protect you.”

Draco watched Harry’s expression soften and he sighed. “Draco that’s exactly why I can’t let you come. If anything happens to you I will never forgive myself.”

In spite of everything, Draco smiled. “Then I’m glad you understand. If anything happens to you and I’m not there to heal you, I won’t forgive myself either. So I’m coming with you.” He put his remaining supplies back in his pack and shouldered it. “Let’s go. The longer we stand here and argue, the higher the likelihood that none of us are going to make it out of here alive.” 

Harry shot him a look, clearly resentful of Draco for taking advantage of his saving-people thing. “Fine. Follow me. I can sense where the blizzard is strongest and that must be the point where it’s drawing magic from Ningor.”

After fifteen minutes of trudging through a near-impenetrable wall of ice and wind, Harry signalled to Draco to stop. He pointed ahead and Draco could just barely make out a shape in the snow. Harry signalled again, telling Draco to stay put. 

It was over in a matter of minutes, but to Draco it felt like an eternity. 

Potter approached the prone figure slowly, wand at the ready. When Potter was about five feet away, the figure suddenly shot up and hovered in the sky. A chill that had nothing to do with the cold travelled up Draco’s spine. It was definitely Rabidus Ningor, but his face was blank, his eyes unseeing. 

In the same moment that Draco realised what they were up against, the core of the storm surrounded Harry in a dangerous cyclone. Draco threw a shield charm at Harry, but it had no effect.

The magic had somehow become sentient, which explained the difficulty the Curse-Breakers were having. Draco had never seen sentient magic in person before, but he had read enough about it to know how much danger they were in. 

He drew in a deep breath, willing his mind to focus and remember what the books had said. How can he defeat the magic? By removing its power source. He was not above killing Ningor if it meant keeping Harry alive, but there must be another way. 

What if he could suspend Ningor’s magic the same way he suspended residual spellwork in patients? If the magic was suspended then neither Ningor nor the sentient blizzard would be able to access it. A person’s magic was very different from trace spell magic, but Draco had to try. 

He threw up a shield charm around himself and then closed his eyes, doing his best to pretend he was at the hospital doing a routine diagnostic. But instead of checking for out-of-place magic, he was searching for all the magic. He could sense the blizzard draining Ningor’s magic and he followed the trail it left behind. The magic he found was flighty and slippery. He flicked his wand and was just barely able to latch onto it. He let his magic surround it gently and then, “Retineo!” He felt the magic struggle against his spell, but Draco held on with all his might.

And suddenly he was no longer cold. He opened his eyes to watch Ningor fall to the ground and the cyclone of ice around Harry peter out. The wind died down and the hail became a gently falling snow. 

Harry looked at Draco in wonderment and then alarm as Draco felt his knees buckle under him. Harry managed to catch him before he collapsed in the melting snow. 

“You are amazing,” Harry said. “Can I kiss you?”

Draco felt himself smile stupidly and nod. If there was one thing this ordeal had taught him, it was how much he had come to like this brash Auror with his awkward blushing and his thoughtfulness. 

He had fallen for Harry Potter. 

The kiss was short, but Draco felt once again like he had just sprinted three flights of stairs. His heart fluttered in his chest and his mind surrendered to the sensation of Harry’s lips, warm and insistent.

Harry pulled back with a breathless laugh. “I’ve been waiting for ages to be able to do that.”

Draco gave Harry a shrewd look, but before he could reply he heard the familiar _pop_ of Apparition and saw Head Mediwizard Gearson approaching them.

“Well,” she began with a grin, “Our Curse-Breakers are going to be sore about this one for a few days. Fantastic work, both of you.”

Harry smiled. “It was all Draco.” 

Gearson looked at Draco appraisingly. “I’ll make sure your Head Healer knows about it. I reckon you could both probably use a few days off too.”

Draco shared a surprised glance with Harry. Healer and Auror jobs were notorious for never getting personal time. 

“Now get out of here, both of you, before anyone says the word paperwork.”

+++

That evening found Draco in Harry’s bedroom.

After Mediwizard Gearson had sent them off, Harry insisted he was going home and Draco insisted they both needed medical treatment. So Harry proposed a compromise. Because Draco was a Healer, he was invited to come home with Harry and heal them both there. 

Draco’s mouth was dry as he tried to focus on casting a diagnostic spell. Harry had stripped down to his pants and lain down in his bed like he usually did when Draco healed him, but the atmosphere in Harry’s bedroom was very different than the one in his hospital room. 

Draco was acutely aware of every inch of Harry’s bare skin. He did his best to ignore how the soft lighting accentuated Harry’s defined torso or the way Harry’s gaze heated when Draco rubbed bruisewort balm into his shoulder. Despite his best efforts to suppress it, Draco could feel arousal washing over him. 

“Draco, I’m pretty sure you don’t have to check me for Spattergroit,” Harry said. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it rang out in the silence. 

Draco looked up with a faint blush. “I just want to be thorough.”

“You sound like Hermione when she’s avoiding something. Come lie down. You need rest too, you know.” 

Draco obeyed, but he felt uncomfortable and stiff wearing his Healer robes. Harry must have noticed because he said, “You can’t be comfortable in those robes.” He reached out and began to undo the clasps on Draco’s robes. “Let me help you,” he whispered in Draco’s ear. 

Draco stilled Harry’s hands despite his warring libido. “I am perfectly fine,” he retorted.

“Why are you so tense?” Harry asked bemusedly. “Are you not into this anymore? The kiss on the field—I thought…” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Potter. I’d love nothing more than to fuck you straight into next Tuesday. I’m just not interested in a casual shag.”

Harry furrowed his brows, and Draco could see the cogs turning. “So… what do you want then? Do you want to be exclusive?”

Draco crossed his arms. “Yes.” 

“I would like that too,” Harry said with his signature, stupid grin. 

“I don’t really think you do. You obviously haven’t considered the repercussions of dating someone like me.”

“Oh really?” Potter raised his brows. “Is this because of your Healer schedule? Because I’ve got no problem—”

“Potter, I’m an ex-Death Eater. Dating me will ruin your reputation, and you’ll eventually get tired of the negative attention.” 

Harry laughed and planted a kiss on Draco’s jaw. “I’ve put up with loads of negative attention since I started at Hogwarts, much of it thanks to you,” he said teasingly. “And I don’t give two sickles about my reputation. Maybe it’ll be a good thing if people don’t think so highly of me.”

Draco’s resolve faltered. “Are you sure?”

Harry smiled indulgently. “Yes. I like you a lot, Draco. You’re incredibly selfless” –he planted another kiss along Draco’s jaw—“and kind”—another kiss—“and thoughtful of others”—a fourth kiss—“and smart”—a kiss at the corner of his mouth—“and forgiving.” Harry ghosted his lips over Draco’s before closing the gap. 

This kiss was nothing like the one they shared in the snow. All thought fled Draco’s mind as Harry’s demanding lips coveted his. His arousal came surging back, every flick of Harry’s tongue against his lips spreading fire through his body. 

Draco broke the kiss with a breathy gasp for air. “My robes,” he murmured against Harry’s cheek as he struggled to undo the clasps with hasty fingers. 

“I have a better idea,” Harry said. He reached for his wand and Vanished all of Draco’s clothing. The sudden cool air caressed his skin, causing him to break out in goosebumps. 

Harry sat up on his knees, eyes devouring Draco. He ran calloused fingers slowly along Draco’s inner thigh, leaving a thrilling trail of arousal in his wake. Draco’s breath caught as Harry’s fingertips brushed his cock before travelling further, until they found his nipples. Harry squeezed and rolled each one in turn until they stiffened and Draco arched into the touch. 

“Like that, do you?” Harry said breathily into Draco’s ear, sending shivers down his spine. Draco moaned fervidly, and Harry caught it in a bruising kiss. He drew his nails down Harry’s back, feeling muscles bunch and quiver under his touch.

Soon Harry’s mouth replaced his hands, trailing fiery wet kisses down Draco’s taut abdomen. Draco quivered helplessly under his attention, desperate for more yet unable to utter the words to ask. 

A wet heat suddenly engulfed Draco’s cock, and he fisted his hands into the sheets with a breathless yell. He looked down to find lustful green eyes staring back at him, nose buried in short blonde curls. “Oh,” he gasped out. Draco could feel his tip resting against the back of Harry’s throat and it was all he could do not to thrust even deeper. 

Harry slowly began sucking and bobbing his head along Draco’s length, and it didn’t take long before Draco was nearing his climax. He dug his fingers into Harry’s shoulders, writhing under him. “I’m—” he stuttered. “Fuck, I’m so close. Harry, I’m—” Harry reached out to fondle his testicles, and Draco was coming hard, pulsing into Harry’s mouth. Harry lapped up every last drop before inching back up to lay next to Draco.

Draco reached out to take care of Harry, but Harry stopped him. “I, uh, already came,” he said, sounding embarrassed. 

Draco gaped. “What? When?”

“You just tasted so good, and you were squirming and moaning, and I was probably rubbing against the bed without realising…” Harry trailed off, cheeks pink.

“I didn’t even get to touch you,” Draco said, voice laced with disappointment.

“Oh, you didn’t think we were going to sleep tonight, did you?” Harry grinned wickedly. “I believe you promised to shag me straight into next Tuesday.”

Draco laughed and pulled Harry in for a tantalizing kiss. He couldn’t remember feeling more content.


End file.
